Certain Defeat: The 3rd Annual Hunger Games
by dyloccupy
Summary: "Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat." (SYOT - CLOSED)
1. Chapter 1: Escape

Prologue, Part One.

* * *

 **July 12th, 2 ADD.**

* * *

 **Carter Chamberlain, 17**

 **Prisoner**

 **District Six**

Red.

It was the only thing Carter could see at the moment.

Red on the floor, the walls, even on the ceiling.

Red seeping out of the bodies laying on the floor in front of her.

Carter shut her eyes quickly.

Even as she desperately tried to squeeze her eyes shut, the same crimson color flooded her vision. The loud boom of the cannon still rattled inside her head.

"Carter? Please look at me."

She wanted it all to stop. Everything was too loud. Carter could still hear the screams, the begging, the gasp her brother made when the spear sunk into his stomach. Carter just wanted to escape, to pretend that none of this was real.

"We can't do this alone Carter. I'm sorry about Jhett but we need you right now."

Nadia's pleading finally brought her back to reality. As she finally opened her eyes, Carter was welcomed by the sight of her cellmates hunched over the bodies of the two peacekeepers that had been stationed outside of their cell.

"I - I - I'm sorry," she finally responded.

"Hush, I understand. You're still grieving. When we get out of this god forsaken place you can have all the time you need to mourn. But, right now we need you here. With us," Nadia said.

Carter finally noticed that Lincoln and Saira were armed with the two guns that the peacekeepers dropped.

"Did they sound the alarm?" she asked.

"No. Lincoln and Saira were able to take them out silently. Everything's going to plan. We'll be okay," Nadia stated confidently.

"But, what if the finale ends earlier than expected?"

"I think we'll be fine. It looks just as drawn out as last year. Take a look for yourself."

With that, Carter walked over to the the small television screen that the peacekeepers had been using to watch this year's Games. The same screen through which she watched her own brother's death.

Again, Carter quickly squeezed her eyes shut to dispel any unwelcome memories. She needed to stay here, in the real world. She couldn't afford to dwell on the past. At least, not right now.

"They've been at it for at least ten minutes already," Lincoln said with disgust.

As Carter finally looked at the television screen, she noticed that the final two tributes were fighting in one of the many war-torn trenches that made up this year's arena.

The girl on screen looked particularly savage. Her torn outfit reminded Carter of the many rebel soldiers that had fought just outside her window three years ago. The boy didn't look much better. Both were bleeding profusely and looked exhausted.

"My money's on the girl. Did you see how she killed that huge boy from eleven? Brutal," Saira exclaimed.

"Shut up!" Nadia shouted. "We need to keep moving. We got lucky that Carter was able to steal the cell keys from those two idiots when they were too busy gambling. We can't blow this opportunity."

Lincoln and Saira both looked down with guilt as Nadia shouted vehemently.

"We all know what we have to do. So let's get moving and hope that these kids buy us enough time to get out of here," Nadia said sternly.

Carter tore her gaze from the two tributes fighting on screen and looked up at her cellmates. They were all here because of the rebellion. Lincoln and Saira were captured trying to escape the district when the rebels were defeated. Nadia, the oldest out of them by at least twenty years, was a prominent leader for the rebels. Carter's father fought right beside her as they practically led the rebellion here in District Six. After he died in battle, both Carter and her brother were thrown in prison to rot.

"Alright. Now that we're refocused, we have to move. The rest of the peacekeepers are in the main lobby watching the finale."

Carter knew Nadia was right. They needed to escape while everyone was distracted.

"Let's go then," she announced as she walked over to the rest of the group.

Everyone looked Carter's way. Now that she got their attention, she knew what she had to say. Before it was too late.

"I'm not sure if this is gonna work out well for us, but I just wanted you all to know that I wouldn't have wanted to share a cell with anyone else for the past 3 years. Your constant support and kindness has meant the world to me. I - I know that it meant a lot to Jhett too."

As she tried to maintain composure, Carter noticed everyone nodded their heads in agreement. In a weird way, the four of them had become family.

"While that was really sweet," Nadia said with a smile, "None of us are dying today."

Carter couldn't help but grin after that. Nadia always had a way with words.

Seeing that the tributes on screen were now wrestling on the muddy ground, the four of them started to walk towards the the end of the hallway.

As Carter marched on, she couldn't help but take one final look back at the cell that had been her own personal hell for the past couple of years.

She thought she wouldn't ever escape, especially after Jhett was reaped for this year's Games. As he was being taken away from their cell after his name was announced on the stage outside, Carter remembers thinking that she would be next. That her name would be read out next year at District Six's reaping for the Third Annual Hunger Games.

Now, she knows that will never happen. Whether that be because she escapes today or dies in a hail of bullets within the next few minutes.

With those last few thoughts, she fixed her gaze towards the door at the end of the hallway.

Towards freedom.

As they approached the door, Carter couldn't help but think that maybe all of them could make it out of this alive.

For the first time in the past three years, Carter felt a little bit of hope.

Looking around to make sure that everyone was prepared, Carter finally turned the door handle and stepped into the next room. Ready to take on anything that stood in her way.

* * *

Hey everyone, dyloccupy here! So I've been reading (obsessing) over some of the stories on this site and I decided that I really wanted to try my hand at writing my own SYOT. I don't really consider myself that strong of a writer so if anyone has some helpful critiques I would really appreciate it! I'm really excited for what's to come and hopefully you decide to submit a tribute or two. **You can find the tribute form on my profile!** You might notice that it doesn't ask for much details. This is because I feel like if given a whole backstory, I might not do your characters justice. It also gives me more free reign over these characters. Due to this, I'm really just asking for the basics such as personality. Based off of the information I get for your tribute, I'll make their own backstory and stuff like that. If there's something that you really would like to be included (or not included) about your tribute, please state it in the 'other' category of the tribute form :) This might turn away some submitters but I remember that twistedservice did their tribute form kinda like this when they were accepting tributes for their most recent story (which is so amazing, I highly recommend it) and it turned out really awesome! Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy what's to come!


	2. Chapter 2: Determination

**Disclaimer** : I don't own The Hunger Games.

Prologue, Part Two.

* * *

 **Six Months Later.**

* * *

 **Linden Anderson, 18**

 **Victor of the 2nd Annual Hunger Games**

 **District Seven**

White.

It was the only thing Linden could see outside her window. In a way, it was almost dreamlike.

As the tiny snowflakes continued to fall, Linden almost felt at peace. The light taps on the window were practically rhythmic.

Linden had been sitting by the windowsill for what seemed like days. Looking out at the seemingly endless forest of District Seven always brought her some comfort.

"Linden? Are you awake?"

Linden tore her gaze from the blanket of snow outside as her older sister Heidi slowly opened her bedroom door.

"Hey, thanks for answering me butthead," Heidi said with a gentle smile.

"Oh sorry. I didn't hear you," she looked up to finally meet Heidi's kind blue eyes.

"It's fine," Heidi paused. "Mom just wanted me to let you know that they'll be here soon."

Great. Just as she'd been getting better, now they want to drag her right back into the spotlight.

"Oh. I kinda forgot that was happening today," Linden said quietly.

"Yeah, well the Capitol is making a pretty big deal out of it," Heidi said bitterly. At least Linden knew that her sister was still on her side after everything that had happened in these past few months.

"I guess," she said dejectedly.

Linden didn't really want to think about what was about to happen over the next few days.

"What are they calling it again? A Victory Tour?" Heidi asked.

Linden loves her sister, but sometimes she just can't take a hint.

"Mhmm. Caius called yesterday to bring me up to speed on everything. He said that all I have to do is smile and wave. Then, I can come home and forget it ever happened," she answered back finally.

"Is that even allowed?" Heidi asked incredulously. "I thought calls from the Capitol aren't permitted? I didn't even think that they had all the communication lines fixed yet!"

"Yeah, well Caius said that President Voss specifically requested the call. He said that she didn't want any problems, especially since this is the first year doing this. I guess she wants to make this a regular thing," Linden said angrily.

Just thinking about President Voss made Linden want to throw up. That women was terrifying.

Linden needed to change the subject before any other bad memories were brought to light. "Where's mom?" she asked quickly.

"Oh, she's downstairs waiting for the stylists to arrive! She's been fussing about this all day. She even got Ren to comb his hair! Can you believe it?" Heidi chuckled.

Linden couldn't help but laugh. She could already imagine the angry face her eight year old brother must be sporting right now.

"Well, once the stylists get here, he won't be the only one that'll be looking silly," Linden grinned.

Heidi smiled. "Hopefully they don't force you into another dress."

Linden nodded in agreement. Just thinking about the ugly dress she had to wear for her victory interview made her shudder.

"Girls! Please come down here! It's time!"

Linden and Heidi exchanged a nervous look as their mother screamed up at them.

"Coming!" Heidi yelled back down. "I guess that means they're here."

Just as Heidi said that, Linden noticed that three armored cars had just pulled into Victors' Glade. It almost seemed as though the snow started to fall even harder as the ominous black cars drove closer.

"Yeah," Linden sighed.

As the cars pulled in front of her house, Linden set her jaw in determination. She would not allow this Victory Tour to destroy her. She's already worked hard enough to regain some semblance of normality. Now, she refused to let that be taken away from her.

"Alright," she said. "Let's do this."

* * *

Wow. I didn't think I would get this next chapter done so fast! I guess it's because I've really enjoyed writing this story. Plus, I feel like my writing's already improving (thanks to some helpful critiques). Again, the tribute form is on my profile and the deadline is **June 7th, 2018 at Midnight (ET)**. So far I've received only one tribute, so it would be great to see some more submissions :)


	3. Chapter 3: Advantage

Prologue, Part Three.

* * *

 **Two Weeks Later.**

* * *

 **Caius Holt, 36**

 **District Seven Mentor**

 **Presidential Palace**

Blue.

Now he finally understood why the room was bathed in the color.

As Caius watched Linden and President Voss descend the marble staircase hand in hand, he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

Both women were dressed in royal blue gowns, smiling and waving at the guests cheering below.

Idiots.

Couldn't these people see how artificial this whole thing was?

Blue drinks. Blue tablecloths. Blue drapes. Blue candles in the crystal chandelier hanging overhead. Hell, you couldn't even walk more than a couple of steps without seeing a blue rose.

It was all one big subliminal message of unity and peace.

All bullshit.

If these people, no, if this country believes that crap for even a second, then they're seriously deluding themselves.

Caius watched as both women finally stepped down onto the marble floor of the ballroom. It was funny to see how uncomfortable Linden looked standing beside President Voss. It was even funnier to see how pleased their country's leader looked. She always enjoyed the attention.

The cheers dimmed as President Voss held up one of her perfectly manicured hands.

"Thank you all for being here tonight," she beamed. "It's such an honor to be in your presence."

More lies.

"As many of you know, these past two weeks have been a celebration of hard work and determination," Voss proclaimed.

Murmurs of agreement could be heard among the guests. Voss' grin grew even wider.

"As we watched twenty-four brave souls fight for honor in the very same trenches in which their neighbors died, only one possessed the qualities necessary to claim victory. As a country, we watched with bated breath to see who that person would be. I know I'm not alone when I say that I was very pleased to see a strong and graceful young woman be that person. Over these past few days, that same young woman has shown us again why she triumphed over twenty-three others to claim glory. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the Victor of the Second Annual Hunger Games: Linden Anderson!"

The cheers that resumed were deafening. Caius knew that President Voss was an excellent public speaker, but that was impressive to say the least.

As the applause continued, Caius could see how Linden's sky blue eyes grew darker with each passing moment. He'd spent enough time with the girl to know what that meant. Caius had to grab onto his ornate chair to stop himself from running over to Linden so that he could bring her back from whatever memory she was living through.

"Linden, I know I speak for everyone when I say that we wouldn't have wanted anyone else to claim that title."

"Thank you, President Voss. I have appreciated your constant support and kindness," Linden said stiffly.

With that, President Voss lifted their conjoined hands high into the air. The applause grew even louder.

Finally, Linden and Voss let go of each other and were quickly swept away into the eager crowd.

Caius looked away and took another swig of wine from his glass. At this point, he really didn't care if anyone saw him get shit-faced. He was the only one still sitting at his table so it probably wouldn't even matter. Worst case scenario, he'll end up puking all over the perfectly polished marble floor of the Presidential Palace.

"Getting drunk already?"

Caius nearly jumped out of his chair. Of course she would seek him out first. He quickly rose from his chair and turned around to meet the owner of that all too familiar voice.

"Hello, President Voss. It's nice to see you again."

Golden eyes stared back at him.

"Why so formal Caius? I thought we agreed that we were on a first name basis," she paused, placing her caramel colored hands onto the lapels of his suit. "We are friends after all."

"My apologies, Pres-," he stopped himself. "Hadriana."

Voss smiled knowingly, slowly pulling her hands back from his chest. "So, the Victory Tour was a success by my standards. Thank you for ensuring that everything went smoothly."

Caius wanted to laugh. Sure, Linden didn't break down in front of the cameras, but there plenty of nights where he watched the poor girl lose it.

"Just grateful that I won't ever have to do this again," he quipped.

"Oh dear. Caius, you didn't hear?" Voss asked.

Caius didn't like the way she looked at him, feigning innocence.

"What?" he hissed.

"Amalthea, the mentor for District Twelve, just gave birth to a beautiful baby girl!"

"And what does that have to do with me?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, I told Amalthea that she needed to spend time with her new baby," Voss paused. "Did you know that the first few months of life are critical for a child to bond with its mother? I wouldn't want to disrupt that crucial process, so I gave Amalthea the year off."

"Get to the point Voss," Caius growled.

"Well someone needs to take her place. I wasn't sure who was qualified enough to handle all the responsibilities that comes with being a mentor, but then I thought of you! Isn't that wonderful!" Voss grinned.

"Well that's too bad. I was told that when I produced a Victor, I would be able to retire. Linden's alive, so you're just gonna have to find someone else," he sneered.

Two could play at this game.

"Unfortunately for you Caius, the Games Council lost your retirement paperwork. I made them search all week but they just couldn't find the forms," she frowned.

Caius clenched his fists.

"I put in that paperwork months ago. How could they just disappear?"

"Well, the new Games Headquarters was being built over the past year. Maybe the forms were lost during the move?"

"That's complete bull-," he stopped himself mid sentence.

"Oh come now Caius, mentoring another year isn't the worst thing that can happen. I mean, we'll be seeing much more of each other over the next few months. That isn't too bad."

With those last few words, it was honestly like a lightbulb went off inside his head.

"Oh. So that's what this is all about?" he questioned.

"What?"

"You did this on purpose," he stated.

"What? How could you even assume such a thing!" she argued.

"Stop playing dumb Hadriana. We both know that you planned this."

"Absolutely not! How dare you even assume that!"

"Listen, we had some good times together but we were never meant to be. You know that," he said sincerely.

"Of course I know that! I can't believe you think I'm still hung up on you!" she yelled incredulously.

"I know it must be hard-," he started.

"Stop right now," she interrupted. "This conversation is over. I came over to be cordial, but now I regret trying to be nice. I hope you enjoy your time tonight, because guess what? This year's Hunger Games are coming up in a few months and they're gonna completely revolutionize the way the Games are played. So when your tributes are crying out for help in the Arena this year, you're gonna wish you could be back here. Back when you were happy and drunk."

"Hadriana," he said weakly.

"Goodbye, Caius. I hope you enjoy the party."

Caius stood there in shock as Hadriana stormed away. How did things become bad so quickly? He let out a groan of frustration as he looked up at the carefully crafted ceiling of the ballroom.

Great, just what he needed. Mentoring two more sniveling kids from some backwoods District and the President of the whole damn country having a personal vendetta against him.

As Caius sat back down in his chair, he couldn't help but replay the last few things Hadriana had said to him. _This year's Hunger Games are coming up in a few months and they're gonna completely revolutionize the way the Games are played._ Oh shit. If Panem thought these past two Games were rough, then they have no idea what's headed their way this year.

Not only should the Districts be ready, but he needed to be too. While it sucked that Hadriana was now out to get him, she actually gave him some pretty valuable information. The other mentors thought this year was just gonna be the same as the past two. They couldn't be more wrong.

Caius now had the distinct advantage of knowing that he couldn't just sit back this year and let his tributes do whatever they wanted. If he wants to break free from these stupid Games, then he has to make sure that one of his tributes make it out alive this year.

He already did it once before, how hard could it be to do it again?

Caius quickly gulped down the rest of the wine in his glass and started towards the closest exit.

He had work to do.

* * *

So I guess I have a thing for writing about colors? Idk XD Anyways, I really enjoyed writing this chapter and can't wait for y'all to see what I have planned for the future! Again, the deadline for submitting a tribute is **June 7th, 2018 at Midnight (ET)**. It would be nice to get some more submissions :)


	4. Chapter 4: Honor

Prologue, Part Four.

* * *

 **June 4th, 3 ADD.**

* * *

 **Remus Stanton, 20**

 **Victor of the First Annual Hunger Games**

 **Presidential Palace**

Green.

He was really getting sick of that damn color.

Who in their right mind would paint their waiting room the same color as a lime? Remus wouldn't be surprised if the room had been repainted to match the crazy colors that had been taken up by the Capitol citizens once the Dark Days had ended.

Every year that he came back to the Capitol, it honestly felt like some new fad had taken over the city. Last year, it was the insane colors. Now, it seemed like every Capitolite had decided to start wearing some variant of flannel; obviously inspired by the outfit Linden wore to her Reaping last year.

Remus didn't fight in the war so that the Capitol could start wearing tacky outfits. He fought for the glory of the nation. For his district's honor. To appease his father.

Look where that got him. Sentenced to kill twenty-three other children. Stuck in this damn ugly waiting room to see what President Voss wanted from him.

Frustrated with his situation, Remus finally glanced at the large clock hanging on the wall opposite from him.

12:00 pm.

Damn. Had he really been sitting here for two hours?

What was the hold up? It's not like he had been the one to arrange this meeting.

As Remus dragged his fingers through his copper curls, he couldn't help but think he was in some sort of trouble. The way the Peacekeepers ushered him out of his house made it seem like that at least.

This meeting was important enough that he was put on a hovercraft and flown straight to the Presidential Palace to meet with President Voss.

Now, he was stuck wondering what prompted this spontaneous meeting. If President Voss was trying to drive him slowly insane by making him wait for hours without any reasoning, then mission accomplished.

He needed to distract himself before he got too caught up in his own thoughts. Remus tore his gaze from the ticking clock to the large window directly next to it.

The skyline outside the window was truly breathtaking. Even after all the destruction the war had brought, the city still looked pristine. While some parts of the Capitol had been completely rebuilt, the inner part of the city near the Presidential Palace hadn't seen a single skirmish throughout the rebellion.

Still looking out at the city, Remus couldn't help but notice a large glass building at the opposite end of the City Circle. That was new. He couldn't help but remember that it was standing in the same exact spot where his own arena once stood.

"Mr. Stanton?"

Remus was torn away from his thoughts by a shrill voice. He sought out the source of the disruption and quickly met the gaze of the secretary stationed outside of President Voss' office.

The green-haired women, again with that awful color, immediately averted her eyes. Good. It was nice to know that these people were still scared of him.

"Yes?'

"President Voss will see you now," she said while focusing on the computer screen in front of her.

"Thanks."

Remus finally stood up, stretched his aching muscles, and then walked across the plush cream rug towards the large oak doors that led to President Voss' office.

Remus paused in front of the large doors. Hopefully this didn't end horribly.

Finally, Remus knocked.

"Come in."

Letting out a deep sigh, Remus pushed open the doors.

 _First step is to assess your battleground._ It was crazy how his father's training immediately took over even after all these years. The dark hardwood floor was covered by an elegant rug that almost ran length of the entire room. On each side of the room stood four large bookcases filled to the brim with books of varying sizes. The walls were painted a dark navy and were adorned with many different paintings. Directly in front of Remus was a large mahogany desk and sitting behind it in a large chair was President Voss herself.

Remus didn't expect the President's office to be so….cozy.

"Hello, Mr. Stanton. Please take a seat," President Voss nodded to one of the comfortable looking chairs in front of her desk.

"Thank you for meeting with me on such short notice. My apologies for the wait, there were some urgent matters that needed to be taken care of."

"It's quite alright ma'am, I wasn't waiting too long," he answered politely.

"You were," she asserted. "But thank you for trying to make me feel better."

Remus' hands were sweating already. What made him so damn nervous around this woman?

"So, may I ask why I'm here?"

"You've been very busy this past year Mr. Stanton. I couldn't help but notice that you've made some pretty hefty purchases recently," she smiled.

"I don't know what you mean Madam President."

Shit. So that's what this is about.

"I wonder, what could the Victor of the First Annual Hunger Games possibly do with an abandoned warehouse in one of the seedier parts of District Two?" she pondered.

Thank goodness Remus had already rehearsed his answer.

"Storage. As you know, my father-," he stopped abruptly. President Voss was looking at him with an eager look on her face. That's definitely not what he was expecting.

"No, don't stop. Please continue. I want to hear what lie you came up with as you were waiting outside," she smiled easily.

"I-," he paused. It seemed like there was no use in lying. "I'm sorry, Madam President."

"Why are you sorry Mr. Stanton? Do you think I'm mad that you've been secretly training the war orphans of District Two for the Hunger Games?" she frowned.

"Yes?" he asked confused.

"Oh dear boy. I'm not mad at you, quite the opposite actually!"

Remus was confused to say the least.

"Don't look so surprised Mr. Stanton! I'm actually quite pleased with the work that you've been doing in that decrepit building."

"So what you're saying," he paused. "Is that you're happy I'm training kids illegally? That I'm giving them an unfair advantage? That I disobeyed the Capitol?"

"Yes, I am. It's about time someone took some initiative!" she exclaimed.

"So if you aren't going to execute me, why am I here?" he asked curiously.

"Well, I'm sure you've noticed that these past two Games have been missing something. Sure, the Hunger Games weren't created to provide entertainment, but it seems like the Capitol citizens don't want to watch twenty-four children fumbling around, trying to swing swords at one another."

"So, you want District Two to provide trained tributes to add more drama to the Games?"

"Precisely," she gushed.

"With all due respect Madam President, if you want to support training in Two, we'll need funding. As you've already stated, our working conditions aren't exactly favorable."

"Funding will come in due time Mr. Stanton. First, I need to know that I can depend on the tributes of Two to play their part in the Games."

"But-," he stopped abruptly due to the glare Voss gave him.

"As soon as you provide the Capitol with another Victor, one that is properly trained, you'll receive all the funding you'll need to create a productive training program."

Remus could tell that there was no point in arguing. "Thank you, Madam President. I won't let you down."

"You better not Mr. Stanton. If I find that you can't fulfill your end of the deal, I might have to find another suitable District that can. District One perhaps? They've been particularly eager to prove themselves worthy ever since the end of the war."

Hell. No.

Remus won't allow those gem-heads from One to steal his honor.

"That won't happen Madam President." He needed to make sure that Voss knew how much this meant to him. "District Two has always been loyal to the Capitol; loyal to you. We stood with you during the Dark Days as the other Districts brought our country to the brink of destruction. I'll make sure that won't change."

Voss grinned. "Good. I'll be waiting to see what tributes you produce this year."

"You won't be disappointed. I promise."

Remus had never broken a promise in his life. He wasn't planning on starting now.

"Madam President?"

The voice of the secretary outside came from the overhead PA system.

"Yes, Prisma?" she answered, clearly annoyed at the intrusion.

"I'm sorry to interrupt ma'am, but Head Peacekeeper Wayon from District Six is here for your 12:15 pm meeting."

"Oh. Thank you for letting me know Prisma. Please let him know that I'll be with him in just a moment," Voss said.

Remus didn't miss the pleased look Voss had on her face as she spoke.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave," he paused, standing up from his seat.

"Yes, well I'm glad that we had this discussion Mr. Stanton. I can't wait to see what the future holds for District Two."

With that, Remus started towards the double doors through which he entered earlier.

"Oh, Mr Stanton?"

Remus looked back at President Voss just as his hands grasped the door knobs.

"Yes, Madam President?"

"Do tell your father that I said hello. I wouldn't want him to think that I forgot all about the great work he did for the Capitol during the Rebellion," she smiled easily.

Remus tightened his grip on the door knob.

"Of course, Madam President," he answered tightly.

Remus slowly turned around and opened the heavy doors, eager to escape the gaze he could feel on his back.

As he shut the doors behind him, Remus let out a deep sigh. That could have gone better. On the bright side of things, his head hadn't been separated from the rest of his body.

"Have a good day, Mr. Stanton. There's a hovercraft waiting outside ready to take you back to Victor's Mountain."

Remus looked over at President Voss' secretary, who still refused to make eye contact with him.

"Oh, thank you."

As Remus walked towards the hallway that led away from Voss' office, he couldn't help but notice the man in a Peacekeeper uniform at the far end of the room. Head Peacekeeper Wayon he assumed.

The bald-headed man looked like he was barely holding it together. Remus didn't miss the beads of sweat that trickled down the man's face. Hopefully he didn't look that bad while waiting for his own meeting. Judging by the nervous glances Wayon kept on throwing at the doors leading to Voss' office, Remus could only guess the man had fucked up royally. At least, bad enough to garner the attention of the President herself.

Whatever. Remus couldn't allow himself to focus on the frightened Peacekeeper. He had much more important matters to pay attention to right now. For instance, making sure that his students were prepared for the Games this year.

Remus had exactly one month until the Reaping. Until then, he had to work harder than he ever had before. Harder than when he fought the rebels during the Battle for Eagle Pass. Harder than when he had to ignore his mother's frantic shouts of pain. Definitely harder than during his own Games.

He couldn't let President Voss down, not like he did when he disobeyed his father's orders three years ago.

This time, there was more than his father's approval on the line. Now, the future of District Two depended on the choices he made within the upcoming weeks.

He would make sure that District Two rightfully claimed its place as the champion of the Hunger Games. There was no other option.

"Sir?"

Remus turned his head towards the voice that called out to him. He was met with the sight of a Peacekeeper standing near the doors that lead to the landing pad behind the Presidential Palace.

"Yes?"

"The pilot wanted me to ask if you were ready to leave."

"Yes," he answered instantly. "When we board, can you ask the pilot to step on it? I've got somewhere important to be."

"Definitely. Now, if you'll follow me please."

The Peacekeeper opened the doors for him, motioning towards the awaiting hovercraft.

Remus wasted no time as he stepped outside and quickly walked towards the landing pad. The faster he got back home, the more time he had to prepare for these Games.

Based off of the discussion he had with President Voss, he needed all the time he could get.

* * *

So we meet the first ever Victor! Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter! Just a friendly reminder that submissions are due in by **June 7th by Midnight (ET)**. There are still quite a few spots that I haven't received any submissions for, so it would be great to receive some more tributes :) Until next time!


	5. Chapter 5: Showtime

Prologue, Part Five.

* * *

 **July 1st, 3 ADD.**

* * *

 **Celeste Williams, 21**

 **Talk Show Host**

 **The Capitol**

Pink.

Celeste honestly couldn't believe what she had just witnessed.

Silvia Vidilas, her so-called 'co-host', just walked onto set wearing the ugliest wig Celeste had ever seen in her life.

On top of that, the wig was the exact same shade of pink that Celeste had dyed her hair just three days ago.

That bitch! Celeste told absolutely no one what new color she was dying her hair; it was supposed to be a surprise for today's show!

Did Silvia really think that she could upstage her? More importantly, who told her what color she had chosen?

Infuriated, Celeste took her seat at the table in front of the awaiting audience. Hopefully they couldn't tell how pissed off she was.

While she really wanted to strangle Silvia right now, Celeste knew that the woman sitting across from her could never outshine her. Silvia had absolutely no fashion sense and couldn't even read from the damn teleprompter most of the time. Celeste honestly had no idea why that halfwit had been hired.

Whatever. Celeste knew that their viewers tuned in each week because of her; to put it simply, she was the star of the show.

Looking around at the eager faces of the audience members, Celeste knew that these people were ready to watch her shine. While Celeste knew that she was part of the reason why people bought tickets to the show, she couldn't ignore the other reason: gossip. Celeste knew that Capitolites from across the city watched the show to hear about all the new rumors that sprung up each week.

While Celeste loved reporting on all the new drama, she lived for the few days a year she got to spend covering the Games. Ever since she started commenting on the Games last year, Celeste couldn't ignore the spike in viewership. It was nice to see that her fellow citizens wanted to hear what she thought about the Games.

Now that this year's Games were just around the corner, there was little else to talk about. Celeste couldn't wait to see what the Games Council had planned for this year. She'd bet on last year's District Two boy - not formally of course, nobody could legally bet on the tributes - and was massively disappointed when he didn't perform like his predecessor.

This year had to be better. If she couldn't capitalize on the growing excitement about the Games, then she would definitely be in trouble with the show's producers. After all, it had been her idea to start discussing the Games on the show. Despite her nerves, Celeste was practically bouncing up and down with excitement on stage, feeling completely in her element.

"Celeste? Silvia? You girls ready?"

Cosmo, the show's executive producer, was looking at her expectantly from the first row of the audience.

"Ready!"

Celeste couldn't help but roll her eyes as she and Silvia answered in unison. Did she always have to copy her?

"Alright, we're rolling in...three...two...one!"

Celeste put on her best smile and was ready to read off the teleprompter in front of her.

"Hello, everyone! Thank you all for tuning in today's episode of _The Talk!_ " she beamed. "Sitting next to me is my wonderful co-host, Silvia Vidalis."

Wonderful? Really? Who wrote this damn script?

"Hi, Celeste! Can you believe that the Reapings for this year's Games are in three days?"

"Oh, I can't wait Silvia! I've been so anxious to see which lucky few will have the honor of competing in this year's Games! What about you guys?!"

The crowd cheered excitedly. It was times like these in which Celeste appreciated having a live audience; they made it much more tolerable to be interacting with Silvia, especially today.

"However, before we dive in today's show, we have a very special guest for you all today!"

What? Did Silvia misread the teleprompter again? No one had told her anything about about a guest.

"Please give a big round of applause for our nation's leader, President Voss!"

The audience erupted into cheers as President Voss walked out onto stage. Her pristine white suit practically sparkled as the cameras focused in on her.

Was this really happening right now? Could she be dreaming?

Celeste could barely think straight as President Voss gave Silvia a quick hug and started to walk over to her.

Now she was definitely freaking out. President Voss, the very same woman that Celeste had admired for so long, was walking over to greet her.

"Hello, Ms. Williams. How are you?" she greeted warmly.

"H-Hello! I'm doing really well now! Thank you for being here Madam President, it's truly an honor."

Celeste could barely contain herself as President Voss gave her a warm hug and proceeded to sit in a chair that had been brought to the table.

Once the applause began to stop, President Voss finally spoke.

"Thank you for having me on the show ladies! I know you must get sick and tired of hearing this, but congratulations on all your success."

"I can't say we'll ever get sick of getting praise from the President herself!" said Silvia.

That got some laughs from the crowd. Damn. Celeste was normally the one that made the audience laugh; she couldn't let herself get too starstruck now.

Looking at the teleprompter for her lines, Celeste refocused herself.

"Certainly not!" she answered, a little too eagerly. "Now Madam President, if you don't mind me asking, what made you want to come on our show today?"

President Voss grinned. "Well, I have some very exciting news that I've been meaning to share for a while now. Seeing that _The Talk!_ is the best place for Capitol citizens to keep up to date on the most important news, I just knew that there was no better place to make my announcement!"

"Well, we're certainly honored that you wanted to share your news on our show!" Silvia said. "Isn't that right folks?"

The audience cheered in agreement. Celeste couldn't let Silvia lead this discussion anymore; she wouldn't let this wretch steal her spotlight.

"So, Madam President," she interrupted. "What exactly is the announcement you would like to make? I know all of us are very curious."

Celeste looked out the crowd as she spoke, watching as the whole room eagerly waited for the President to speak.

"Yes, well it seems as though I shouldn't keep you all waiting any longer!" President Voss exclaimed.

The audience let out another big roar. Celeste couldn't help but find herself waiting on the edge of her seat as well.

"As you may know, the Hunger Games has allowed us to meet some of the finest young men and women our country has to offer. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to truly hear their stories before the Games have begun. That's all about to change. I've heard your pleas, read your letters, and even seen some of your petitions!" she joked. "Well, I'm happy to finally announce that the Third Annual Hunger Games will include the introduction of tribute interviews!"

The cheers that came from the audience was deafening. Celeste honestly couldn't believe it herself. Sure, she had hoped that they could actually hear from the tributes themselves but she didn't actually think that would ever happen!

Everyone in the crowd was now standing, giving no signs that the applause would stop anytime soon. Celeste noticed that even Silvia was clapping her hands wildly.

After a few more seconds, President Voss gestured for the crowd to sit down and be quiet. The audience obeyed immediately.

President Voss smiled brightly. "I'm glad that you're all pleased with this news! However, there's still more," she paused. "With the introduction of this new part of the Games, there needs to be someone to actually conduct the interviews. Silvia? Celeste? Will you accept the position as official hosts of the Hunger Games?"

Oh wow. Celeste hadn't been expecting that.

"Of course!" Silvia practically shrieked.

Celeste barely stopped herself from scoffing. Could the girl make herself look even more like a buffoon?

Celeste looked out at the crowd one more time. To see the looks of pride and happiness etched onto their faces made it all the more real. She had worked so hard these past few years and to actually be acknowledged for it felt amazing.

Celeste finally looked back at President Voss, obviously waiting for her answer.

"It would be my absolute pleasure Madam President," she beamed.

"Perfect! I'll have my assistant set up a meeting for us to discuss the details."

"Great! Well it looks like we have to go to a quick commercial break, but stay tuned for all the new details about Aquila Powers' mysterious new boyfriend!"

When Cosmo gave her confirmation that they were in the commercial break, Celeste finally let herself take a deep breathe. She honestly still couldn't believe what just happened.

"Again, thank you for having me ladies. I know that you two will do amazing an job co-hosting this year's interviews! I'll have my assistant get in touch with you later tonight."

Celeste looked back at the beautiful woman sitting next to her. "Of course Madam President, I know that I can't wait to get to work on this year's Games!"

"Yeah! I also can't wait to help out this year," Silvia said eagerly.

Celeste couldn't help but notice the amused look President Voss had on her face when she looked between her and Silvia.

"Yes, well, I must get going. I can't wait to meet with you ladies soon! Have a nice day."

"Goodbye!"

"Thank you, again!"

Silvia and Celeste watched President Voss get up from her chair and walk off the stage. As the woman disappeared, Celeste turned to look at her co-host.

Silvia stared back at her. "Isn't this exciting Celeste?!"

"Yes, it is," she answered easily.

If Silvia thinks for one second that she can one-up her, then she's sorely mistaken. The only reason why she was invited to co-host the interviews was because of her hard work. When it comes down to it, Celeste won't give that fool the chance to upstage her.

"Alright ladies, we're back in…"

Celeste will make sure that once and for all, everyone in Panem will know that she's the real star of the show; that she's the one that deserves the love and attention.

"Three…."

Silvia won't know what hit her.

"Two…."

Celeste turned toward the cameras. She was ready to show Panem that President Voss didn't just make a huge mistake.

"One!"

Lights. Camera. Action.

* * *

Hey everyone :-) Sorry for the wait! I was really busy these past two weeks with school projects, college orientation, and preparing for graduation. Also, I've decided to extend the submission deadline to **June 15th at Midnight (EST)**. There are still a lot of spots that have received no submissions, so I would really appreciate it if you decided to submit a tribute! Also, **awesomez43** , since you don't have your PM inbox enabled, I guess this is the only way I can get in touch with you? I just looked through my PM inbox and it seems as though I never received your tribute for some reason :( If you can send your submission through PM again, I would appreciate it! I wouldn't want the time you took to fill out the tribute form to be a waste. Also, I'm not immediately accepting tributes like some other SYOTs. Once the deadline is over, I will look at all the submissions and pick the tributes that I feel like I can do a lot with story-wise. Again, sorry for the confusion! I can't wait to see what kind of tribute you came up with!

 **Edit:** I changed up my profile to make it easier for y'all to see which spots have received no submissions. I know it's probably really scary having an author give your tribute a whole backstory that you didn't really help create, but I have a bunch of ideas for these tributes that I think are interesting. All I ask of you, is that you trust me enough to make your tribute memorable (which I know is a lot to ask of someone since this is my first SYOT). So yeah, hopefully you decide to submit :) I would love to have enough tributes by the deadline to start writing the actual story!


	6. Chapter 6: Creation

Prologue, Part Six.

* * *

 **July 3rd, 3 ADD.**

* * *

 **Cassian Kramer, 38**

 **Head Gamemaker**

 **Classified Location**

Orange.

Cassian still couldn't get over how beautiful the sun looked as the day slowly became night.

The ball of fire off in the distance continued to change to deeping hues of orange, and then almost tangerine. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the fleeting colors of dusk began to fade away.

"It's beautiful."

Even with the sudden interruption, Cassian couldn't bring himself to look away from the sight before him.

"Yes, it really is," he answered back, eyes still watching the disappearing sun.

"I now see why you were so adamant about placing the arena here."

Cassian finally tore his eyes away from the display of beauty in front of him to look over at the person standing next to him. By glancing at the crisp white suit, it only took him a second to realize that he had been talking to none other that then President herself. Did anybody give a heads-up anymore?!

"Hello, Mr. Kramer," President Voss grinned.

Cassian tried to stay as calm as possible; he couldn't let Voss know that she had caught him off-guard.

"Hello, Madam President," he smiled back. "How gracious of you to drop by. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to drop-in one last time. It seems as though everything has come together beautifully."

Looking around, Cassian couldn't help but agree.

"Yes, Madam President. I'm very pleased with how this year's arena turned out."

"I have to say, it's much more….aesthetically pleasing than last year's arena."

"I'm glad you think so, we had much more time to plan for this year. We were lucky that we even had an arena last year."

"If you didn't, I'm not sure you would be standing here right now," she said with a bright smile. "But, I must say Mr. Kramer, it was a pretty genius idea to use those remaining trenches outside of District Seven."

Cassian forced out a smile. "Well, I'm glad you think so Madam President. With those insurgent sleeper cells blowing up the Coliseum four months before the start of the Games, we were pressed for time."

"It was very unfortunate to say the least. I know that I was excited to watch the Games up close again," she frowned. "But, we made sure those terrorists got what they deserved."

Cassian couldn't help but shudder as he thought of what Voss did to those murderers; even he wouldn't support those methods in the arena.

"Thank goodness we were able to still use that location for the new Games Headquarters," he pointed out.

"Indeed, we were very fortunate. However, construction on the Headquarters has been completed for several months. You reported that the arena was completed two months ago, yet tell me why I find out that you're still working out here just days before launch? What I want to know, is if this arena is actually complete."

Voss' piercing stare made Cassian uncomfortable to say the least. "I can assure you Madam President, the arena is ready for the upcoming Games. I just wanted to run some simple tests to make sure everything was perfect."

"Simple tests? Like what?"

"Well, I wanted to absolutely make sure that all the weather drones worked. As you know, the weather drones control the atmospheric phenomena in the arena. They rely on precise synchronization and information flow. If one drone doesn't work, then the whole system fails."

"Is that it? You just wanted to make sure you could control the weather?" she remarked, clearly unimpressed.

"The Games Council also wanted me to make sure that all the cameras in the arena were set up to capture even the slightest movement. From the main control room at the Headquarters, I noticed that some cameras were not broadcasting anything. So, I had to-"

"Mr. Kramer," the President interrupted. "Do you really think I care if a few cameras aren't working? When I saw that you were out here, I thought that one of our new _assets_ was running wild."

"Oh. No, ma'am. I can assure you that all of our new creations are safely secure."

"Good. This year needs to be special; it needs to be the start of a new era for the Games. The citizens of the Capitol have grown tired of watching sniveling children cry for their mommies on screen. Now, they want to watch a show; one that'll keep them entertained."

"I plan on delivering just that Madam President."

"Perfect! You had me very worried Mr. Kramer. Just know, that I have very high expectations for this year. If they aren't met," she paused. "Let's just say, I'll be looking for another Head Gamemaker next year."

Cassian gulped. "Trust me Madam President, that won't happen."

"You better hope so."

"Mr. Kramer!"

Cassian and President Voss both whipped their heads around to see a figure running towards them. As the figure got closer, Cassian could finally make out their features. Seeing the floppy blue hair confirmed Cassian's suspicions. Didn't he tell the boy to stay in the damn hovercraft?!

"Yes?!" he answered back harshly.

The young assistant looked embarrassed as he slowly realized who Cassian had been talking to.

"I'm so sorry for the interruption sir, but Gamemaker Welch has sent an urgent message regarding the generators for the force field."

Before Cassian could answer, President Voss spoke. "Well, it seems as though your attention is needed elsewhere Mr. Kramer. I'll take my leave now, but just know that I'll be watching to see if your _special tests_ turn out to be much more pressing issues."

"Yes, ma'am. I can promise you, we will be ready for the start of the Games."

"You better be," Voss answered coolly. The unspoken threat of what would happen to him if things didn't go to plan wasn't lost on Cassian.

With one last look around the surrounding environment, the President brushed past Cassian and walked towards her awaiting hovercraft. How did he not hear that thing land? Was he too caught up in his own head? Or, maybe it was just specialized for the President's own personal use.

Cassian watched as President Voss climbed up the ramp of the release hatch. Had she been wearing heels the whole time? This wasn't exactly the appropriate place to be wearing such footwear. The tributes should be thankful the Games Council decided to provide sturdy shoes this year.

As the hovercraft lifted up into the air and sped into the distance, Cassian turned back towards his assistant.

"Syrio, I thought I told you to stay in the hovercraft with the pilot," he said between clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry Mr. Kramer, but the message-"

"Could have waited," he said abruptly. Taking a deep breathe, Cassian tried to calm himself down for what seemed like the millionth time today.

"Did you save the message?" Cassian asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Good, I'll see what Gamemaker Welch wants. Go on ahead, I'll just be a minute."

Syrio gave him a quick nod and started back towards the hovercraft. He should really just fire that kid already; he talked too much.

Cassian looked back out towards the horizon, finally noticing the dark shades of the sky that clearly marked the beginning of night. At least the tributes this year will die in a place of pure beauty, rather than the muddy labyrinth like last year.

He couldn't help but be proud of what he had come up with for the arena this year. While the bombing last year had been horrible, in a way, it had also been a blessing in disguise. If not for it's destruction, the Games would continue being held in the hot sands of the Coliseum. Now, Cassian could truly let his imagination run free.

Watching as his masterpiece slowly became consumed by the dark of night, Cassian decided it was time to head back to the hovercraft. Hopefully Welch didn't call him to say that the generators for the force field were malfunctioning, or even worse, were broken. That would surely fuck up everything.

Remembering what President Voss had said, Cassian really hoped nothing was wrong. If he couldn't deliver this year, then Cassian could definitely kiss his head goodbye.

As he boarded the ramp that led into the hovercraft, Cassian hoped it wouldn't come to that. He liked his head firmly attached to his neck, thank you very much.

As the hatch rose up from the ground and clicked back into place, Cassian started towards the control room of the hovercraft.

He needed to make sure that everything was perfect. If not, then President Voss would surely make him pay.

* * *

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! As you might have noticed, the deadline for submissions is quickly approaching. I updated my profile to make it easier for y'all to see which spots have received no submissions (a.k.a. what spots have no competition as of right now lol). Like I said last chapter, I would really love to have submissions for all twenty-four spots so I can choose what tributes I want for the story, therefore allowing me to start the Reapings! Again, I know it's scary to submit a tribute to an author that will make their backstory, but I have some really cool ideas! All I need is for you to trust me :) Reviews are also appreciated so I can get an idea about what readers are liking about the story so far. Remember, the new deadline is **June 15th - Midnight (EST)**! Hopefully a lot more submissions will come in before then :-) Until next time, dyloccupy :3

 **Edit** : As y'all might have noticed, I extended the deadline again. This is because I won't have access to a computer this weekend so I thought I might as well just extend the deadline. Only five more spots need submissions so hopefully they can get filled by then! The new deadline is **June 17th - Midnight (ET).**


	7. Chapter 7: Commence

Prologue, Part Seven.

* * *

 **July 4th, 3 ADD.**

* * *

 **Hadriana Voss, 35**

 **President of Panem**

 **Presidential Palace**

Black.

Most people hated the dark, but Hadriana found comfort in it. The silence that came with the darkness was restorative, especially after the frenetic rush of the day.

Hadriana always felt at peace when she sat in one of the comfortable lounge chairs in her bedroom. Dealing with so many idiots on a daily basis was quite tiring, so she always looked forward to the end of the day. Contrary to popular belief, even she needed to rest sometimes.

The moonlight that poured in from the windows was the only source of light in the room. Beyond the windows, bright city lights glowed through a pair of soft ivory curtains. Behind the glass, a majestic view of the skyline appeared with startling beauty. Rows of towering skyscrapers stretched into the night, looking like shining beacons.

Even in the dead of night, the city refused to sleep. Hadriana knew that the nightlife of the Capitol had recently started to pick up again. The rebellion and subsequent reconstruction period greatly impacted the social life of many Capitol citizens. Now that the party scene was on the rebound, Hadriana hoped that the Games this year would be all that people could talk about as they hopped around from club to club.

The old grandfather clock in the corner of her bedroom suddenly chimed, signaling the end of another hour; another hour closer to the start of the reapings.

With it being Reaping Day, the start of another Hunger Games was officially here. However, this year won't host just any Hunger Games; it'll host the Games that will mark the start of a new era. Or at least, Hadriana hoped so.

Hadriana had done everything in her power to make sure that this year's Games would be special. That this year could show everyone that the Hunger Games could be more than just a way to get revenge; it could be a source of entertainment.

The first step was making sure that these Games would feature a particularly challenging arena. Cassian's original idea was good enough, but she knew something was missing. Sure, it was good seeing the tributes actually kill each other, but that could get boring. They needed to add a new danger to the Games. Hadriana wasn't disappointed with what the Games Council came up with.

Announcing the addition of the tribute interviews had been the easiest part of the process. She knew that many capitolites wanted to meet the tributes, so Hadriana capitalized on that. Celeste and Silvia would make the interviews entertaining enough, so Hadriana wasn't all that worried. She just hoped that they didn't kill each other before then.

Hadriana was also inspired by Remus' idea of training the tributes. In the past two years, she already grew tired of watching tributes fail at killing each other. With basic knowledge of combat, then they could surely manage to make the Games more exciting. The Games Council wasn't exactly happy with her last minute request, but they got the job done. With a month before the start of this year's Games, they managed to create a proper gymnasium in the basement of the newly constructed Games Headquarters. Of course, there were other survival stations put in place to make sure the kids could actually learn how not to freeze to death.

Hadriana had even considered making betting on the tributes legal. Perhaps she would sometime in the future, but for now, they needed to take baby steps. Adding too much, too soon could be overwhelming for some people. Plus, not too many people actually had the money to spend gambling on the tributes. Many capitolites were still trying to recover from the war after all.

The only thing Hadriana left up to chance was the actual reapings. Sure a couple of them were rigged, but it wasn't to the extent of the First Annual Hunger Games. She just hoped this year produced an interesting crop of tributes; without a dynamic cast, this year's arena would be wasted.

Looking back at the grandfather clock, Hadriana noticed that it was a little bit past three o'clock in the morning. She should probably head to bed, but Hadriana couldn't possibly sleep knowing that there was still work to do. Hadriana would allow herself to sleep when she felt everything was perfect.

Focusing her gaze back on the cityscape, Hadriana just hoped that these Games could deliver. She had worked so hard this past year to make sure that everything would go smoothly. If something went wrong, then someone would pay. Stupidity would be met with consequences.

Looking out towards the nearby City Circle, Hadriana noticed the gigantic countdown clock on the side of the Games Headquarters. Six more hours until District One's reaping would be held. It was crazy to think that it was already the third year of the Games. It seemed like it was only yesterday that Hadriana had announced the Treaty of the Treason. Already, forty-six children failed to make it out of the arena. Soon, twenty-three others would suffer the same fate.

In a few short hours, the people of Panem will meet the unlucky few souls that will face this year's arena. The tributes this year had no idea what horrors they would soon face. To put it simply, they were facing certain defeat.

* * *

I'm so excited! While I had fun writing the prologue chapters, we can now finally get into the real story. I think everyone got at least one tribute accepted so that's good! Also, the blog is up on my profile! I would appreciate y'all letting me know in a review what you think. Tell me if you have any favorites, any people you already dislike, and if it looks okay in general. Thanks again for your support! Now, here's the final tribute list!

 **District One:**

Jakson Stryker, Male, 18.

Joyce Castillo, Female, 18.

 **District Two:**

Luther "Luth" Tavares, Male, 18.

Jasmine Zegunis, Female, 17.

 **District Three:**

Justy Earls, Male, 15.

Marisol Imes, Female, 15.

 **District Four:**

Shawn Calloway, Male, 14.

Maeve Forsberg, Female, 16.

 **District Five:**

Garth Andrews, Male, 15.

Alodia Lavillant, Female, 15.

 **District Six:**

Louis Mitsubishi, Male, 17.

Avari "Av, Avi" Verona, Female 16.

 **District Seven:**

Imre Burman, Male, 15.

Cedara Willis, Female, 15.

 **District Eight:**

Corduroy Harris, Male, 12.

Leto Polymern, Female, 13.

 **District Nine:**

Durum Reynolds, Male, 18.

Callie Rye, Female, 15.

 **District Ten:**

Keller Voscole, Male, 18.

Meadow Kirschner, Female, 14.

 **District Eleven:**

Khat Freeman, Male, 13.

Mireya Auden, Female, 12.

 **District Twelve:**

Gordon Ignyte, Male, 16.

Harlyn Danica, Female, 16.


	8. Chapter 8: Vengeance

Reaping Day, Part One.

* * *

 **July 4th, 3 ADD.**

* * *

 **Jakson Stryker, 18**

 **District One Male**

A sudden gush of pain jolted throughout his body. Good. He liked it when they fought back.

Wiping away the blood flowing from his nose, Jakson advanced on the frightened boy in front of him.

"Aw, come on now Pyrite. Why'd ya have to do that? You know fighting back is just gonna make things worse."

As Jakson got closer, Pyrite kept on inching backwards. "Fuck you. I already told you that was all I had."

Did he really think that Jakson was gonna buy into that bullshit?

"You really expect me to believe that you only had five capits? You artisan bastards always carry around more than that."

"Fine." Pyrite paused as he dug into the pockets of his cream-colored trousers. "Just take it and leave me the fuck alone."

Jakson quickly picked up the money Pyrite threw on the cobbled ground. Thirty capits? Pyrite must've been planning something big after the reaping today.

"Aw, were you planning on taking Angelica to the sweet shop after this? You know, I might have to try her out once you're done with her. Heard she's pretty willing if you know what I mean."

A flush immediately crawled up Pyrite's neck. "Shut up!"

"Even you know that's all she's good for. I saw some of her test scores last week; I'm surprised she can even read," Jakson chuckled.

"Asshole!"

Pyrite suddenly sprang to his feet and charged. How cute. Jakson brought a fist to the blonde's face, snapping his nose into a grotesquerie. He watched as the boy's arms lost tension and his legs began to weaken. With a final kick to his stomach, Pyrite dropped to the cobblestone floor of the alleyway.

That was easier than expected. Looking down at the bloodied boy, Jakson grinned. "I had fun, we'll have to do this again sometime."

With one final look over his shoulder, Jakson strolled toward the end of the alleyway. As he emerged from the side street, Jakson quickly met the gaze of the perfume workshop owner next door.

"What are you looking at old man?" he sneered.

The balding man quickly ducked his head, trying to avoid his stare. "Nothing…just...well...um, you might want to head to the Justice Building. The reaping starts in ten minutes."

"Oh. Well you might want to help out that poor fella down there, I don't think he'll be able to make it in time without some help," Jakson smiled easily, motioning over his shoulder.

The perfumer took a quick glance down the quaint alleyway and sighed. "Yeah, I'll have one of my daughters accompany him to the reaping. You best get going, it wouldn't be in your best interest to be late."

Jakson rolled his eyes. He could handle a few lashes; he's survived far worse these past few years.

"Sure," he said nonchalantly. "Oh, good luck to your daughters today. I wouldn't want to see a pretty artisan girl go to waste." Before the man could respond, Jakson gave him a quick wink before he started off towards the Justice Building.

As Jakson thumbed through the banknotes, he couldn't help but smile. It was only eight-fifty and it already seemed like things were going his way. His father wasn't bitching about the silver mines for once and now he had some money to spend after the reaping.

Shoving the money in his pocket, Jakson couldn't help but whistle as he sauntered down the Street of Jewels. With a skip to his step, Jakson approached the growing crowd shuffling towards the town square.

Today was gonna be great.

* * *

 **Justy Earls, 15**

 **District Three Male**

Today was gonna be great.

The early morning air felt great on Justy's skin. Watching the bustling city streets from so far up always made Justy feel kind of powerful. However, there was barely anyone on the streets today; no one was rushing to go anywhere at the moment.

"Justy! Get in here now!"

Crap.

"Coming!"

Scrambling to his knees, Justy quickly climbed through his bedroom window. He knew that he was fortunate to have his own room; most people in Three lived in one bedroom apartments. The room had been his for almost four years now, but before, Justy shared it with his two little brothers Mac and Linux. Most people would think that it was weird, but he missed sharing a room.

"Did I not tell you to stop sitting out on the fire escape? You know how dangerous it is!"

In the doorway, Justy's mother looked at him sternly. Her beautiful brown hair had begun to gray a couple years ago, adding a couple of years to her appearance. Justy supposed that being constantly worried could do that to a person.

"I know, it's just that -"

His mother arched an eyebrow. Justy learned that whenever that happened, it was better not to argue.

"I'm sorry," he said gently.

"It's okay baby, I just don't want you getting hurt."

Justy loves his mother, but she can be overbearing at times. Okay, most of the time. But still, he understands why. However, the rebellion ended three years. The danger of being killed in the crossfire of the fighting was no longer present. Why couldn't she understand that?

"I made some eggs and bacon for breakfast; I know that's your favorite."

Justy smiled brightly. "Thanks."

Following his mother into the kitchen, Justy was immediately overcome by the aroma of sizzling bacon.

"Why don't you sit down while I get this all ready," his mother offered.

Justy didn't need to be told twice. He quickly sat down in one of the chairs at the small wooden table near the kitchen window. While his mother got their plates ready, Justy looked out at the rest of the city. The central hub of Three mostly consisted of tall apartment buildings and industrial areas. There was little reconstruction going on in the city; the Capitol couldn't bomb Three because of the potential of unleashing biological agents on the whole country. Which is why the Capitol soldiers resorted to taking back the city inch by bloody inch.

"Here," his mother interrupted, quickly setting down their plates on the table.

Justy wasted no time to dig in; it wasn't often that they ate good food like this. Even though the war had been over for a while now, there were still food shortages in the district. To be honest, Justy was getting sick of living off of overpriced bread and porridge. That's why he slowed down his eating and tried to savor the last remnants of bacon left on his plate.

The bacon broke over his tongue, perfectly crisp, perfectly salty. It was the perfect treat for today, a way of celebrating a year closer to safety. Sure, the reaping hadn't happened yet, but there were thousands of other names in the boys' reaping bowl. Justy was positive that his name wouldn't be drawn, so there was no harm in celebrating early.

"Alright, we better head out; wouldn't want to be late."

"Okay," he mumbled, shoving the last piece of bacon in his mouth.

"Once the reaping's over, I'll be waiting by Mr. Wong's tea shop," his mother paused, obviously pondering over something. "Maybe we'll even go in and get something."

Justy's eyes lit up immediately. "Really?"

"Yes," his mother smiled. "Just don't take too long, okay?"

"Yep!"

"Justy?" his mother asked softly.

"Mom?"

"I love you. Don't be nervous about today."

Just smiled reassuringly. "I'm not. Love you too."

Getting up to put his dish in the sink, Justy knew the odds were in his favor.

He didn't need to worry.

* * *

 **Alodia Lavillant, 15**

 **District Five Female**

She didn't need to worry.

Well, that's what everyone told her at school. People kept on telling her that there was no way she would ever get reaped. However, Alodia had her doubts. Just last year, the son of District Eight's mayor was reaped. Who's to say that wouldn't happen again?

All these thoughts were racing through her mind as she waited in line to get signed in to the reaping. Alodia knew getting worked up now would be pointless. At least the familiar hot desert sun reflecting off the red sand and bluffs in the distance was somewhat comforting.

"Next!"

As she stepped in front of the table of Peacekeepers stationed at the entrance of the town square, Alodia felt at ease. She recognized a few of the Peacekeepers from her father's personal security team, which meant she didn't have to deal with one of the snobby Capitol liaisons.

"Oh, hello Ms. Lavillant! How are you doing today?"

Alodia batted her eyelashes. "I'm doing absolutely fantastic! Thanks for asking Ciprian."

The young man gave her a lingering smile and quickly thumbed through the paperwork in front of him. Finding the correct page, he marked off her name.

The brunette looked up and smiled brightly. "Alright, you're free to enter."

Alodia smiled back and walked into the town square. Even though she still felt uneasy walking to the fifteen-year-old section, she knew that showing everyone else how she felt would be asking for commentary. As the mayor's daughter and one of the most popular girls in school, Alodia quickly learned how to mask her true feelings.

"Alodia! Hey!"

Alodia instantly looked to her right. Teyla López met her gaze, smiling eagerly. Teyla was nice enough, but she certainly wasn't destined to become a future hydropower engineer. Even though she wasn't the brightest, Teyla was smart enough to not turn her back on Alodia like some other people did after what happened last year.

"Hey!" she beamed. "Do you mind if I stand with you?"

"Sure, more the merrier right?" the brunette answered enthusiastically, looking at someone next to her.

As she took a took a spot to Teyla's left, Alodia finally saw who was on her opposite side. Great, now she had to deal with Coryanne Yanes making snide comments throughout the whole reaping.

"Oh, I didn't see you there Coryanne! How are you?" Alodia asked, sporting one of her signature smiles.

Coryanne obviously wasn't impressed. "Good."

Whatever. If Coryanne wanted to be a brat, then so be it. "So, are you guys nervous?"

"Kinda, it's pretty scary to think that there's a chance you might get reaped," Teyla answered truthfully, nervously wiping at her skirt.

Coryanne rolled her eyes. "Teyla, you know she doesn't have to worry about that."

"You really think that just because my father is the mayor, that I'm considered off limits? The only privilege I have is that I know how to act like a proper lady, unlike some people," Alodia said tartly.

"You little -"

"Guys! It's starting!"

With one last glare at Coryanne, Alodia turned her attention to the stage. She was met with the sight of her father patiently waiting in front of the microphone; his striking red hair contrasted his dark grey suit. He was obviously waiting for the crowd to quiet down.

"Welcome, everyone," her father said quickly.

Once he got the crowd's attention, Alodia's father quickly read the Treaty of the Treason. She was just glad that he wasn't the one picking who went into the Games. People were still mad that their family stayed loyal to the Capitol during the war, so personally picking who would go into the Games would only cause even more resentment.

After wrapping up the speech, he introduced Claudia Stradlin, District Five's assigned mentor. Alodia's father once told her that the blonde-haired woman was actually one of the Capitol's top spies during the rebellion. Alodia thought that would easily give Five an advantage in the Games, but in the past three years, no tribute from Five has ever made it to the final eight.

After her father's introduction, Cassio Thayer – their escort – stepped forward, flashing the crowd a smile as he made his way to the reaping bowls.

"Ladies first!" Cassio announced, and drew a piece of paper from the bowl. He seemed to take forever to unfold it. "Alodia Lavillant."

Teyla gasped in surprise. Great. Looking at the girls around her, Alodia could see the smirk on Coryanne's face. Bitch.

Stepping out of the roped-off section before any Peacekeepers could get to her, Alodia held her head high as she walked to the stage. She refused to meet anyone's eyes. Alodia could only imagine the look of pure horror on her father's face. As she finally mounted the stage, Alodia looked out at the crowd. Everyone looked back at her blankly.

Alodia refused to cry; that's probably what everyone expected her to do. No. Alodia couldn't let Panem think that she was simply the mayor's spoiled daughter. Instead, she smiled and waved at the encroaching cameras. Even though she wasn't here by choice, there was no way she was gonna simply roll over and wait to be killed. If anything, she was going to do anything and everything to survive.

She was going to win.

* * *

 **Imre Burman, 15**

 **District Seven Male**

He was going to win.

There was no doubt in his mind. Imre had been running for a couple minutes and in all that time, Rolf had yet to pass him.

It wasn't exactly surprising since Imre's job as a messenger required that he run everywhere, but still, he hoped that Rolf would challenge him a bit.

Keeping the lead, Imre kept on the path from the town center and quickly passed one of the paper mills. The absence of the mill's earthy-sulfur scent told him that the workers weren't processing today. At least the foreman gave them off; wouldn't want any grieving parents falling into the machinery.

As Imre took a left past the town's sawmill and finally turned onto the familiar dirt path that led to his Uncle's cabin, he took a glance behind him.

"You okay?" he called over his shoulder.

"Doing just fine," Rolf puffed out between breaths.

Imre couldn't help but smirk. "Good, then you wouldn't mind if I picked up the pace a little bit."

Before Rolf could answer him, Imre started sprinting towards the log cabin. As he got closer to the front door, Uncle Arvid suddenly appeared on the porch. Seeing the steely look on his uncle's face, Imre began to slow down as he approached the cabin. Rolf finally caught up to him just in time to see his father waiting for them.

"What are you boys doing?" the burly man said, clearly annoyed.

Imre shrugged. "We thought that it would be better to get home quickly. Wouldn't want to miss the reaping."

Uncle Arvid rolled his eyes. "Point taken. Now go get changed; wouldn't want all of Panem to see you both covered in dirt."

"Yes, sir!" Imre and Rolf answered in unison, giving a quick salute, and then proceeding to march into the cabin.

"Smartasses!" Uncle Arvid called after them.

Imre smiled as he entered his room and began to change into his reaping clothes. Pulling on his clean socks, Imre glanced over towards the nightstand. The wooden picture frame immediately caught his eye. No, he couldn't think of them right now; especially not today. Imre took a deep breath and looked away, focusing on pulling up his pants instead.

However, the damage was already done. Frustrated, Imre looked back at the picture of his parents and siblings. Even though Imre loved living with his uncle, he often wondered about the rest of his family. Uncle Arvid stayed out of the fighting, but the rest of his family were just as divided as the rest of the country. Sometimes, Imre found himself wondering if any of them were still alive. Imre knew it was pointless to think about the people that abandoned him, but it didn't hurt to wonder.

The few times he caught himself wondering about his parents or siblings, Imre felt guilty. If Uncle Arvid hadn't taken him in, then Imre was pretty sure he would've died during the rebellion. Although his uncle might be intimidating, he's actually a really great man; it just takes a while for him to warm up to people. Or well, it takes a while for people to warm up to him. Uncle Arvid's bluntness can take a lot to get used to.

In a way, his uncle's hard-nosed attitude rubbed off on him after all these years. While most people might consider that a bad thing, Imre was thankful. In his book, being sensible was definitely not a thing to be looked down upon.

Finally buttoning up his blue shirt, Imre walked out of his room and into the adjacent kitchen. Seeing that Uncle Arvid was the only one in the room, Imre guessed Rolf was still getting dressed.

As Imre stood next to his uncle, he clapped him on the back. "Good luck today."

Imre grinned. "Thanks."

Chances are, in a few hours, he'll be heading home, laughing with Rolf, probably making a joke about how the tributes are gonna have a hard time getting any advice from Linden this year. Ever since she got back from the Victory Tour, no one's seen her outside of Victors' Glade. But, Imre knows he can't be too optimistic. There's still a chance he can get picked. He won't let himself believe that he's in the clear this year.

He's not that stupid.

* * *

 **Durum Reynolds, 15**

 **District Nine Male**

He's not that stupid.

Durum knows that something could go wrong; that his plan won't work. But he's sick of waiting. No matter what happens, Durum knows that he'll probably be dead by the end of the day.

Honestly, he was surprised things have gone so smoothly. Receiving the package from its hiding place and sneaking it onto the train had been the easy part. Durum was lucky that the Peacekeepers didn't check people's pockets.

Even though the Capitol had doubled down after the bombing of the Colosseum two years ago, it seemed like the Peacekeepers were starting to get complacent. Durum couldn't blame them though, there hasn't been any rebel activity in over a year. Which meant that today would have even more importance.

Once they departed from Collective VI, the home of all Nine's grain mills, Durum started to get nervous. The town was stationed in the far north near the Seven border, which meant that it would take a couple of hours to get to Collective I, which acted as the district center ever since the end of rebellion. With all that time, Durum knew that there was a higher chance that he could get caught.

Durum heard that in larger districts like Nine, most people were transported in trains or hovercrafts to the reaping. He assumed that like in Nine, they probably came without windows, presumably so they couldn't accurately mark any locations of importance. It seemed like the Capitol didn't want to take any chances after all.

However, none of it mattered. Durum was already in line to get checked in to the reaping. The train ride had been irritating since there were so many people packed in to the train cars, but Durum knew that it would all be worth it in the end. Once he stepped off the train, it seemed like nothing could stop him. All that there was left to do was to just get signed in.

Durum was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when he finally found himself standing in front of the registration desk. The Peacekeeper who checked his name off barely spared Durum a glance, pointing him towards the aisle-way with an annoyed expression.

Most kids in the square didn't know him, so it was easy to find a space right at the end of the aisle where no one was standing. The few who did recognize him, whether it was from work back in Collective VI or passing by, gave Durum strange looks. He knew that they thought he was weird, mainly because they've never heard him talk. He didn't have any friends or family, so why waste his breath on people he didn't care about?

Durum ignored them until the actual reaping started, when Nova Putnam finally took the stage after Mayor Murphy's speech, green hair bouncing everywhere and a smile plastered on her face. Durum doesn't know how she does it. It's like everyone in the Capitol just forgot to be a decent human. They all either deluded themselves into thinking the Games were actually humane or they simply didn't have the courage to speak up.

"And for the ladies...Callie Rye!"

Durum blinked back into reality when he heard Nova call out the name. He slowly looked across the aisle at the girls like everyone else was doing. Finally, a dark-skinned girl peeled her way out of the fifteen-year-old section, hands shaky but clenched. Durum could tell that she was nervous, but she didn't look as scared as some tributes in the past. She quickly took the stage, jaw clenched.

Now, all Durum had to do was wait for the male tribute to get called. Then, he would make his move. He slid his hand into his trouser pocket, grabbing onto the object that would finally deliver justice.

"Now for the boys...Durum Reynolds!"

Well...that made things easier. Durum did his best to stifle a laugh. Hell, now the cameras would have an even better view of the show.

Durum slipped his hand out of his pocket and stepped out into the aisle. As calmly as possible, Durum climbed the steps to the stage. He thought that he heard Nova say something, but he couldn't focus on her at the moment. The only thing that was important right now was the grenade in his right pant pocket.

Durum slowly pulled his hand out of this pocket, gripping the grenade he had saved from the war. To think that he had waited three years for this moment. Not only was he going to get retribution, but Durum was finally going to be reunited with his family. As he was about to pull the pin, a hand shot out of nowhere, holding his arm in a death grip. Looking up in shock, Durum met the intense stare of Nonus Charles, District Nine's mentor.

"Don't do this boy," Nonus growled. "You'll regret it."

Shock quickly turned into anger. Durum wouldn't let some Capitol freak ruin this. He didn't understand what Durum had gone through; he never would. The Capitol needed to pay for what they took from him.

Durum clenched his jaw, staring right back into the older man's green eyes. "No, I won't."

With a quick elbow to the gut, Nonus' icy grip slipped away. Durum knew that everyone watching were probably wondering what was the problem, but he couldn't waste anymore time. If he waited any longer, then the Peacekeepers would surely notice the explosive in his hand. Now that both of his arms were free, Durum pulled the pin of the grenade. Out of the corner of his eye, Durum could see the look of pure horror on Nova's face.

Just as he was about to throw the grenade at the crowd of Peacekeepers stationed at the front of the stage, Durum felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist. The tackle from behind knocked the wind out of him. However, it was too late; the grenade was already in the air.

Durum watched as the object tumbled in the air, rapidly approaching the ground. Unfortunately, he quickly realized that the explosive wasn't heading for the front of the stage. Instead, it landed directly in the middle of the thirteen-year-old boys section.

Just as the explosion ripped through the crowd, Durum closed his eyes. He failed. Instead of getting revenge, he only caused even more death.

He just hoped his family would forgive him.

* * *

 **Mireya Auden, 12**

 **District Eleven Female**

She just hoped her family would forgive her.

Cracking her bruised knuckles, Mireya picked up the piece of bread off the ground. As she took a glance to her right, Mireya winced. Laying in a broken pile, there was a boy that couldn't have been older than ten or eleven. It was the very same boy that Mireya beat the snot out of just moments ago.

Tucking the piece of bread in her satchel, Mireya hurried away from the bloodied figure still laying on the dirt ground. Making sure no one was nearby, she quickly darted away from the alleyway. She just hoped the cover of night would keep her from being detected

Mireya should feel bad about what she had just done, but it's a dog-eat-dog world now. There are so many orphans roaming the streets now, all of them begging and fighting each other for scraps like stray dogs. Even stealing every now and then, despite the risk of a whipping if they get caught.

The thought of a whipping doesn't scare Mireya anymore. She's had worse. Like the time she accidentally wandered down the wrong alleyway after finding a bag of sugar and stumbled across a gang of hungry teenagers. Mireya was lucky that Violet found her afterwards and dragged her back to the orphanage to get fixed up.

But no, it's not the thought of the pain that scares Mireya. It's the thought of the rest of the district watching her get beat if she was ever caught stealing. In a way, it would almost feel like she'd be letting her parents down. Maybe that's foolish. Sure, they wouldn't want Mireya to steal, but they also wouldn't want her to starve to death. There's only so much food to go around at the orphanage.

Most of the time, though, the Peacekeepers don't notice her. Mireya stays out of their way, and they ignore the starving kids roaming the streets. The children of Panem aren't the problem. They weren't the ones that started the war.

However, Mireya knows the consequences of being caught outside past curfew. Which is why she had to make sure the coast was clear before running over to the fence that surrounded the orphanage. After waiting by the butcher's shop for a couple minutes, she saw that there was no patrol unit nearby. Taking that as her cue to move, Mireya quickly crossed the dark street and shimmied through the hole in the fence.

Letting out a deep breath, Mireya quickly made her way to the large wooden building that she now called home. Quietly, she moved from tree to tree for cover, hoping that she wouldn't be seen from one of the windows. Sure the Peacekeepers weren't the nicest people, but if you got on Mrs. Tuthill's bad side, then your life would be made a living hell.

Mireya finally found herself under the apple tree that was closest to her bedroom window. Jumping up, she caught onto the lowest branch and began to climb. As she took her time maneuvering the foliage, Mireya noticed that some apples had started to grow. Of course even the lush fruit trees in front of the orphanage had been more for show; even the fruit they produced was tightly controlled as any other orchard in Eleven. Mireya knew better then to take one of the many apples surrounding her; she already had her prize for the night.

Once she found herself on the same level as her open window, Mireya carefully walked across the branch that extended furthest out towards the building. Thankfully the limb was close enough to her window that she didn't have to jump for it. Extending her arms out, Mireya grabbed onto the bottom of the window and pulled herself to safety.

As soon as Mireya landed on the wooden floorboards of her room, she was blinded by a flash of light. Once her vision cleared, Mireya saw a person standing in front of her with a flashlight. The bright grin the figure was sporting could only mean it was one person. Violet.

"Look what the cat dragged in."

Mireya blanched. "Hey, Violet! How are you doing?"

The other twelve-year old didn't look impressed. "Better now that I know you're safe."

"Sorry I snuck out, but it was worth it. Here," Mireya said, taking the loaf of bread out of her satchel.

Mireya's heart fluttered when she saw the look of pure joy on Violet's face.

"How did you get this?" the dark-skinned girl exclaimed, holding the piece of bread close to her chest.

"Shhh, don't wake up anyone else!" she whispered, holding a finger to her lips.

"Sorry, it's just been a long time since I've had a piece of bread!" Violet whispered back excitedly. Before Mireya could say anything else, the shorter girl held up her right hand, a look of concern sketched across her face. "Wait, did you fight someone for this?"

Oops. Mireya looked away, not wanting to meet Violet's hazel eyes. "Um, maybe?"

"Mireya! I thought we talked about this!" she said quietly. "No more fighting!"

"Don't worry! I knew what I was doing. You know these other kids can't handle me," Mireya said with a smirk.

"Mireya, you can't get too confident. You know what happened before; I don't want to ever see you like that again," Violet said softly.

Mireya couldn't stand to see Violet so crestfallen. Stepping forward, Mireya wrapped the other girl in a hug. Violet's wavy, dark hair tickled her face. "I know Vi, but it won't happen again. I promise."

With that, Violet immediately perked up. "Fine. Just be more careful, okay?"

"Sure," she agreed. "Now, how about we eat some of that bread? I'm starving."

Violet laughed. "As long as we don't eat it all."

Mireya smiled. Even though Mireya lost her family, at least she wasn't truly alone.

* * *

 **Well….that took longer than expected. I'm so sorry for the wait, but I just wanted to make sure everything was perfect. I think each section has about five different variations lmao. I'm pretty happy with how things turned out, especially considering it was my first time writing a reaping sequence. Again, any feedback would be appreciated! Until next time, dyloccupy :)**


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